Worth More Then Gasoline
by Titania Le Fey
Summary: Snake goes into the gas and crazy infested Dayton, Ohio to find one of his creature comforts.


Snake had been searching the city for the better part of a day. It was mostly deserted besides a few crazies he heard in the distance. Nobody dared to enter the thick cloud of gas that still hung over Dayton, Ohio. Snake on the other hand had stolen a gas mask exactly for this purpose. He was on a mission and not about to give up.

Plissken continued down the dark hazy street searching the broken buildings and rubble on both sides. Crazies were howling ahead but he had got used to that sound after spending years on the streets. His senses told him they were still far enough away that he was safe.

A door with busted glass caught his eye and Snake smiled behind the respirator. "Bingo" The metallic voice whispered through the microphone reminding him a bit too much of the streets in Russia. 

He approached the door and pushed it aside on its rusted hinges. Debris rained from above but nothing larger then marbles. Plissken wasn't worried. Carefully he tested the floor until he felt a beam below and inched his way inside. His eye took in the old wood that was beginning to crumble under the weather and the slow corrosive forces of the gas cloud.

Under the mask Snake frowned at the interior. He would have enjoyed this place during the early days, before the war but now it was empty much like the man who had finally arrived to the dark void of its interior. Pausing he looked over the pictures still hanging haphazardly on the wall. One held his eye for longer then he would have liked but no one valued autographs or baseball any longer. He wondered if he was the only person in the world who still remembered all the names and faces.

Another chorus of cries echoed down the street outside. The crazies were working closer to his position. Snake slithered behind the mahogany counter and set his bag on the once beautiful surface. He turned contemplating the dusty shelves. Plissken had to choose carefully resolving to carry only what he could carry at a full run. Life had taught him there was always a chance you would need to run for your life.

Choosing twelve from the dozens that sat on the shelves was a dilemma. Slowly he removed the ones he wanted and wrapped each in cloth before placing them in the canvas bag. Closing the bag securely around his prize he hefted it on his back. Snake hated leaving any of it. With his scent here the crazies would tear the place apart looking for him. Whatever he left would be destroyed. Plissken hesitated when he saw another bag under the counter.

The screams were still over a block away. The high pitched cries punctuating them no doubt was a victim being eaten more or less alive. Snake tested the bag ignoring the agonizing screams outside. It was sturdy and he shrugged to himself before he started filling it. No sense in letting this all go to waste. To the Snake this was more precious then gasoline. He'd rather walk then be without it.

Hastily he made his way across the beam. Every step was calculated and cautious. An animalistic shriek ripped through the room causing Plissken to jump. They were here already. Turning toward the door he misstep and his foot crashed through the tattered floor. The stench started to creep in and he heaved fighting with his foot. That smell made even the Snake afraid. Freeing his foot he looked back to see a hand groping the hole searching for it.

"Motherfucker!" Snake nearly stumbled in the street. The smell was getting to him. He looked down the street in horror; the swarm was only two buildings away. The floor planks snapped behind him and for a second he stood staring and begging his stomach to ignore the stench. Breaking from the wave of stink and corrupt human flesh, he bolted for the humvee. Laden with the two heavy bags they were gaining on him.

Snake hated to face the fact he had to relinquish part of his prize. He set the bag gingerly on the yellow line. Crazies ran the edges and his treasure might survive the center of the road. He could easily outrun his pursuers now that he was lighter.

Arriving at his ride he threw the door open and placed the bag on the passenger floor as he got in. He could see the blue bag waiting for him as he started the engine and the lights flickered across the blacktop. Buckling himself in so it would be harder for the animals to pull him out he threw his behemoth in gear and headed for the rest of his prize.

Maneuvering between the bodies flinging themselves at his speeding hummer he got up beside the bag. Crazies started beating on the hood with all manner of things. Plissken ignored them and pulled his revolver before throwing the door open. The door thumped against the wave of humanity causing crazies to stumble and trample one another but the surge would quickly return.

Plissken snatched the bag and started shooting into the crowd. Hands grabbed him but it was the teeth that worried him. He managed to get the bag in his lap but the wave of foul humans had a grip on his gas mask, threatening to pull it away.

Plissken knew what gas did to the eyes. He had one ruined in that manner already. Snake shoved the revolver barrel up against the wrist and pulled the trigger. Blood showered the windshield and the bellowing crazy took some of his friends to the ground as well. The second his head was free Plissken pushed the gas pedal to the floor. Crazies clung to the door, the seat, his coat and Snake struggled to keep control of his vehicle. The hummer jumped and skidded as it rolled over the animals blocking his path.

Two blocks later the last o his tag-a-longs fell away and he shut his door. Blood burned on his hand as it mixed with the gas in the clear teeth marks just above the thumb. Plissken pushed the second bag into the passenger seat and tried to relax. Nothing worked up his nerves more then the crazies. The prospect of being ripped to shreds and eaten alive was not pleasant neither was their stench.

In a few minutes Snake cleared the gas cloud and rolled down his windows. A few miles later the mask was tossed in the back seat and calm started to return. It was nearly midnight when Snake returned to the beaten down motel he had rented a room in. Cautiously he locked up and toted his prize inside. He sat them on the bed and reached in feeling a tingle of anticipation. This was the good shit. Snake smiled at flock of geese on the front of the frosted bottle. The fridge didn't work and that was a big disappointment but he had a cooler of ice.

Grinning he pulled the rocks glass from his bag and dropped two cubes in it. The sound of ice hitting the perfect glass was soothing. Slowly he poured the clear liquid over the ice listening to it hiss and crack. Leaning back on the bed he sipped the drink absolutely indulging in the burn as it washed down his throat. It was a good burn, one that he missed. He would have a couple weeks of relaxing nights with what he picked up today. It had been worth the chance of dying. Snake couldn't wait for that euphoric feeling of drunk from top line booze.


End file.
